Eventually, even Teflon wears thin, which is to say that sooner or later something was going to
stick to Jim Tressel.

It happened to Woody Hayes. It happened to John Cooper. It happened to Earle Bruce, to name the
three previous Ohio State coaches whose careers were cut short by one thing or another.

For Woody it was the punch. For Earle it was too few seasons with double-digit wins. For Cooper
it was too few bowl victories (three) and even fewer wins against Michigan (two). Three different
circumstances but the same conclusion: Out you go.

Granted, Tressel seemed more fireproof than his predecessors, including Hayes, who was let go
the day after throwing a hook at the throat of Clemson nose guard Charlie Bauman during the 1978
Gator Bowl. Fans tend to forget that Hayes had lost some support after the Buckeyes failed to beat
Michigan three straight seasons (1976-78) and had lost four of their previous five bowl games.

Where Hayes was ornery, Tressel was diplomatic. Where Bruce was bluster, Tressel was surgical.
Where Cooper shot from the hip, Tressel spoke carefully. Woody yelled, Tressel explained. Bruce
boiled on the sideline, veins bulging in his neck. Tressel paced and pondered, a gum-chewing Mister
Rogers. Cooper delegated. Tressel controlled.

But if history tells us anything about coaching, it is that only a few survive over the long
haul. The career of longtime Nebraska coach Tom Osborne was not without blemish, but he retired on
his terms, neither fired nor shamed into resigning. Likewise, Penn State coach Joe Paterno has
avoided the ax.

The majority of the rest, unless they choose to move on before the hammer falls, either succumb
to an unmet expectation to win more games or are betrayed by their own behavioral baggage.

Ancient Greek literature dubbed it the tragic flaw, a personality trait that leads to a person's
downfall. Ultimately, Tressel's tendency to micro-manage may have been his undoing, In contrast to
the man he replaced - Cooper was brought down in part by a hand's-off approach that allowed his
detractors to accuse him of losing control of his players - Tressel tried to do it all himself.

So when emails hit his inbox with troubling reports that should have been shared with his
superiors, Tressel instead kept the information mainly to himself, forwarding it to the
hometown mentor of Buckeyes quarterback Terrelle Pryor. When Tressel denied knowledge of the
incriminating email contents -- OSU players were trading memorabilia for money and tattoo discounts
-- the road to ruin was freshly paved.

Hayes could not get a handle on his anger. Tressel chose to trust his own decision-making, and
perhaps his core values, over the existing lines of authority that included the OSU athletic
department and NCAA.

Some history: In April 1956, the Big Ten Conference put Hayes and the Ohio State football
program on one-year probation and banned the Buckeyes from appearing in the 1957 Rose Bowl. An
investigation showed that several members of the football team were being paid for jobs they were
not showing up for, and that Hayes was giving some players money from his own pocket.

Hayes was somewhat contrite, but also huffed that if players needed money to eat, he would
supply them.

Tressel has not been accused of paying players, but has always considered it his responsibility
to guard their welfare. Whether that was the reasoning for containing the flow of information to
his office, the bottom line is that, like Hayes, Tressel chose to take matters into his owns
hands.

Unlike Hayes, the old iron skillet who survived to coach another two decades, Tressel's time
lasted only 10 years. At one time a shiny non-stick pan, he now joins the club of former Ohio State
coaches. He is not the first member. He will not be the last.